In Your Letter
by Sir Chucky
Summary: Here a short one shot. Chuck finds someone to help him after the threat of being put a bunker. This takes place after Chuck vs the Marlin


**A/N Here is a short one-shot to help me get back into writing mode. Thanks to michaelfmx for the awesome beta job and thanks to Amazon Prime for putting Chuck back on. I watched the first episode and started writing again. If you are waiting for Chuck vs The Island, I am writing the next chapter right now.**

 **Disclaimer I do not own Chuck.**

Echo Park

January 20, 2008

"Chuck!"

"I'm in the living room Morgan. You know, the front door does work, you don't have to come in through the "Morgan Door" every time," Chuck said, looking over his shoulder as his best friend, Morgan Grimes, strolled into the living room.

"I didn't want to interrupt in case Sarah and you were in here getting busy,." Morgan retorted, drawing out the word busy a couple of extra syllables. Chuck just rolled his eyes and replied, "So, you climb through my bedroom window and yell out my name, very loudly I might add, in the hopes of not interrupting Sarah and me? Don't you think we would be in my bedroom if we were making out? Not that we ever would." Chuck quietly moaned the last sentence under his breath.

"So, what are you up too?" Morgan asked, totally ignoring the logical question Chuck had asked him.

"Watching the Inauguration." Chuck replied, pointing his hand to indicate the TV.

Morgan turned his attention to the TV and then got a confused look on his face, "Umm… Chuck, what's Mrs. Tate doing on TV?"

Chuck slapped his forehead and then let his hand slide down so he was able to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Morgan, do you ever watch any news on TV or listen to a radio or read a newspaper?"

"No man, that's just too depressing. If I wanted to be depressed, I would just re-read Watchmen." Chuck rolled his eyes again, that was twice in less than a minute of conversation. Chuck was finding he was rolling his eyes at Morgan's hijinks more and more often recently. He was finding them more annoying than funny these days, but then again, he was finding a lot of things in his life less funny.

"But to answer your question," Chuck began, "Yes, that is Mrs. Tate, and yes, it's the same Mrs. Tate that was our 2nd grade teacher, and she's on TV because she's now the President."

"President of what?" Morgan asked as he grabbed a hand full of chips, cramming them in his mouth, and then plopped down on the couch.

"Of the United States!" Chuck said with gritted teeth, trying his best not to slap Morgan in the back of the head.

"No way! Hey, hey-hey… Chuck, Chuck!" Morgan yelled as he jumped of the couch. "We now have friends in high places!"

Chuck let out a loud sigh. "I truly doubt that she remembers us, buddy, so hush, I want to hear her speech." The two then sat back and listened to the speech of the new President, Mrs. Donna Tate.

####

The rest of the week went by normally for Chuck. Cover date with Sarah, placating Ellie, spending time with Morgan, working at the Buy More, and doing his Intersect duties. So pretty much the same thing he did every week since that fateful September night. Then he found a "bug" in the Buy More and his world was turned upside down. All of a sudden, he was being told that he was being sent to a secure site. Chuck might be naïve, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that if he was put in a secure site, he would never leave. He would never see Ellie and Devon again, or Morgan and the Buy More gang… He would never see Sarah again. Chuck had been just minutes from being placed on a helicopter and being whisked away, when, either by luck or fate, he was saved a trip to the bunker.

So now he was in his bedroom, pacing. It all finally hit him how close he'd been to being sent away. Chuck had realized that his luck would run out and that he'd either be sent away or killed. He could see no other end to his story.

The depression and pacing had finally worn him out, so he climbed into his bed and turned on his TV. He allowed a smile to grace his face when he saw his old teacher standing behind a podium with the Presidential Seal on it, and then he flashed. Chuck jumped out of his bed and went to his desk, sat at his computer and began typing.

####

Oval Office

White House

Washington D.C.

"Madam President, here are the letters from your private address."

"My what?"

"The address you set up so your family and close friends can send you letters that won't go through the regular process the other mail goes through."

"Oh yes, I remember, I've done so much this past week I can't remember if I'm sitting or standing." As she began to sort through her mail, she stopped on one particular letter. She sat back in her chair as she looked at the return address and wondered out loud, "Bartowski… Bartowski." She then cocked her eyebrow in recognition and opened the letter and began to read.

####

Madame President,

My name is Charles Irving Bartowski and I am writing because I need your help. First off, let me say how proud I am that you were elected President. You probably don't remember me, but I was in one of your 2nd grade classes almost 20 years ago. As I have said, I need your help, and I truly believe you are my only hope.

Last September, I received an email from an old acquaintance, who I later found out to be a CIA agent. When I opened the email, it had an attachment on it. When I opened the attachment, it, for lack of a better word, downloaded the entire nation's intelligence in to my brain. This is the intelligence that has been collected by the NSA and CIA. So now when I see an image or hear certain sounds, I "flash" and then I know all the information that the NSA and CIA know on that subject. I know this sounds impossible, but I beseech you to check any information on the Intersect project.

When the NSA and the CIA discovered that I had received the Intersect, they both sent agents to collect me, but after using the Intersect to diffuse a bomb and saving several lives, including General Stanfield, the powers that be decided I could do more good where I was with an agent from the CIA and the NSA to watch over me. Since then my team has captured an elusive arms dealer, recovered a very expensive diamond from terrorist, we even took down a whole hotel full of Russian arms dealers. All of these things, and more, we have done in just the last five months. I believe in my team, and I know we have done a lot of good for this country. But today all of that changed, I found a listening device in the Buy More and the powers that be decided that I needed to be put in a secure facility. I know, Madam President, if I am sent to this facility, I will never be released. They will just use me for the Intersect and never let me leave. I will never be able to see my family or friends again. I want to make something clear, I have no problem working with my team as long as I have the Intersect. I just cannot live with the threat of being locked away hanging over my head. And what will happen when I become obsolete? I know the government will not just allow me just walking around with all this info in my head. I am sure I will be locked away or disposed of. I know I have given you a lot of hard to believe facts, but I swear it is all true.

Thank you for any help you can give.

Sincerely,

Charles Irving Bartowski.

####

The president re-read the letter several times and then leaned back in her chair, and she just stared at the ceiling of the Oval Office. She then blew out a big sigh and hit the button on the intercom. "Judy, get me General Diane Beckman of the NSA and Director Langston Graham of the CIA and tell them I want them in my office within the hour,"

Forty five minutes later, both Graham and Beckman sat in front of the President's desk. The President just looked at the two people and decided to read Chuck's letter again, as she read, Beckman and Graham gave each other confused looks. Just as Graham was going to ask why they had been called, the President spoke.

"I'm sure both of your departments have done deep background checks on me. I'm sure you know all the skeletons my skeletons have, but I'm going to tell you something you may not know. When I was teaching, I had a student that was so smart, he was doing 4th grade work in the 2nd grade. He was a very special boy. Last I heard from him, he had gotten a full academic scholarship to attend Stanford, but I lost touch with him. To be honest, I really hadn't thought about him in years, but I got a very interesting letter from him today." The President then leaned forward and propped her elbows on her desk and steepled her fingers. With a gleam in her eye and in a voice you just knew she used on disobedient 2nd graders, she said, "So, General Beckman, Director Graham, what can you tell me about Charles Irving Bartowski and the Intersect?".


End file.
